


Seventh Heaven

by Caedmon



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drinking Games, F/M, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 06:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6504085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caedmon/pseuds/Caedmon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and Rose find themselves locked in a closet during a party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seventh Heaven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jeeno2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeeno2/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Seven Minutes in Heaven](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6077655) by [jeeno2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeeno2/pseuds/jeeno2). 



> This is a remix of the fantastic jeeno's "Seven Minutes in Heaven"...I hope I did it justice! It's my first ever remix!
> 
> Beta'd by tenroseforeverandever, but the mistakes are all mine. Nothing else is.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

~*~One Hour Ago~*~

John hated drinking games, especially when his roommate, Jack, was in charge. His friends were taking the mick - with Jack as the ringleader - and getting John drunk in the same stroke. He’d had just about enough. It was time to strike back.

“I’ve never streaked naked across the quad,” he said, knowing that it would force Jack to drink. Of course, Jack had no shame, and John really shouldn’t have been surprised when he knocked back his shot and offered to strip down and reenact what he’d done for the benefit of everyone present. They all laughingly declined, but John was frustrated. That hadn’t worked. He’d have to try again. 

“I’ve never shagged a professor,” he said during his next turn, coming dangerously close to revealing private, secret information. Jack had cut his eyes at John then, and took his shot and raised his eyebrow at John.

He’d felt a thrill of fear. _Uh-oh._

“I’ve never been in love with Rose Tyler. _For an entire year_ ,” Jack emphasized.

John had had just enough to drink that his instinct to follow the rules of the game was quicker than his good sense, and he threw back a shot. He flipped the little glass upside down when he finished, aiming a finger at Jack and admonish him for his poor grammar, realizing only when the shot glass hit the table and his friends erupted into laughter what he’d done. He was mortified, convinced that one of them would leap at the opportunity to tell Rose...who had texted him and let him know that she was running late but would be there soon. She was due to arrive any minute. 

_Oh, no. Oh, God._

But no one mentioned it when Rose showed up fifteen minutes later, and he was utterly grateful. He considered buying each of them a drink, maybe a steak dinner, hell, he’d buy them a fucking _car_ if they just kept their mouth shut about what he’d admitted when he took that drink.

And he honestly thought he’d gotten away with it, too. That is, until Jack made the suggestion that they all play “seven minutes in heaven”. The very next thing he knew, he and Rose had been all but shoved into the closet by a grinning Martha and a smirking Jack.

“You’re welcome,” Jack muttered in his ear just before slamming the door.

~*~O~*~

John couldn’t see in the dark, but he could hear. His hearing was perfectly intact. Brilliant, really, his ears. Never missed a trick. 

All his brilliant ears were able to pick up at the moment, though, were the outraged squawks from the woman who was locked in the dark closet with him. 

“Have you lost your _mind_?” Rose shrieked, pounding on the door as if desperate for escape. 

“No!” came Martha’s voice through the door. “I haven’t lost my mind. And you can’t come out for seven minutes!”

John glanced at his watch. They were in this closet until 9:54. 

The thought bubbled up to ask her if she was claustrophobic, but she made a sound almost like a growl and he knew she wasn’t afraid. She was _angry_. 

He put his hand out and lay it on her shoulder, his instinct to comfort and protect guiding him, and was immediately grateful that he’d found it and not accidentally groped her.

She turned to face him, and he had no idea what to say. Even in the extremely low light, she was stunning.

“Ugh. I’m so sorry about this,” Rose said, sounding sad and embarrassed. 

John didn’t know what to say - the alcohol he’d had was fogging his brain - but he knew for _sure_ that he wasn’t sorry about this. 

Well, he was mostly sure. Almost sure. Rose didn’t seem happy about this turn of events, and maybe he shouldn’t be either. 

Seemed he wasn’t very sure at all how he felt about their current predicament. 

Rose looked as if she were steeling herself to say something. John flinched, certain he wasn’t going to like what she was about to say. 

“Look, we don’t have to...you know. Actually _do_ anything in here.” She wouldn’t look at him, and maybe he shouldn’t be looking at her, either. He wanted to suggest that they could do whatever she wanted, that he’d dreamed of this, and he wasn’t at all disappointed in how things had turned out. But he didn’t get a chance. “I’m really sorry our idiot friends made you come in here with me.”

_They didn’t_ make _me come in here at all, precious girl. I_ want _to be in here. If you weren’t miserable, this would be brilliant._

No, he could never say that. So he just ran his hand through his hair and agreed, refusing to look at her and let her see just how sad her words had made him. “I mean...yeah. Of course. Let’s not do anything. That’s….yeah. That’s fine.”

Was it his imagination, or did Rose’s posture change with his words? Oh no, she thought he wasn’t sincere. He needed to tell a whopper and try to convince her that he didn’t think this was brilliant and want to snog her until she didn’t remember how to stand up. 

“I mean, why _should_ we do anything? We shouldn’t. No. Definitely not. You’re right, of course you’re right.”

_There. The biggest lie I’ve ever told, and to the person I love most in the world. Well done, John._

His eyes snapped up when he felt her hand on his shoulder. “I mean, you don’t _want_ to do anything in here, do you?” Her voice was quiet, hesitant. Hopeful?

_YES,_ he screamed so loud within his mind that he was convinced she’d be able to hear it. _I want to pin you to the wall and make you forget everything but my name and the feel of my hands._

“Not unless you want to,” he said instead. 

Rose didn’t say anything for a moment, and he kicked himself. He should have just said no. He shouldn’t have -

She took a cautious, halting step towards him, bringing her body incredibly close to his, and tugged at the button on his shirt. 

“What if I want to?”

“Yeah?” he was embarrassed by how breathy his voice was. 

She didn’t answer, just slid her hand around the back of his neck at the same moment he circled her waist and lowered his head, not needing the light to find his destination. 

~*~One Week Later~*~

The next weekend found the group of friends gathered around the table at John and Jack’s flat again, just as they had been the week before.

“I’ve never rounded third base in the closet on my best friend’s vintage RAF coat,” Jack snarked.

John sat his shot glass down, clacking it against the wood of the table and grabbing Rose’s hand. “Third base, you say? We didn’t quite get that far in seven minutes last week. But let’s give it a go tonight.”


End file.
